


Funny Love Story

by Lunochka (distaff_exile)



Category: My Favorite Year (1982)
Genre: M/M, oh my days, someone else wrote this pairing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distaff_exile/pseuds/Lunochka
Summary: Funny pet name, Steinberg. Eh, we're funny people, you and me.





	Funny Love Story

There's a lot to forgive, sometimes. 

You ran out on me pretty often, and when you didn't do that, you were passing out instead. But I can forgive you that, because you had a shitty life, even if you were a movie star. Fame isn't all it's cracked up to be. You got me in so much trouble. Dammit, I lost the best job I ever had for you. My mother never got over _that_. I guess you being her new son-in-law was enough to make up for that. Oh, and that stunt the night we were drunk? KC wasn't impressed. Well, obviously you don't mind. She was The Competition. And that policeman -- he had a few choice words to say about the situation! First he sees us walkin' through the park, nose to nose like a couple of queers (and isn't that what we are?), then you steal his horse -- you know, that used to be a hanging offense in this country! 

But I can recall just as many ways you made it up to me, and not just the times you offered me a swig of that medicine of yours. Yeah, I lost my job, but after all that, you came back. You didn't just climb into the driver's seat and drive on back to the Waldorf. You walked back into that building, let me bitch at you, bitched back, and went to rescue King Kaiser. Just like that. All in a day's work. Don't ever try to tell me you're not that hero again, because you are. You really are. And you're a good rider, so we managed to avoid the long arm of the law, at least until we'd sobered up. (Among other things.) 

I know you're watching me write this. Now you're coming over here. Now you're distracting me. 

There, now that I've gotten rid of you -- ! 

Tess has grown into the most beautiful young woman. She looks just like her father. She's been very understanding about this arrangement, you know? I told her just to call me Benjy, but every now and then she'll slip and call me Dad. You done good, Alan. We done good. The only problem is, well, she looks just like her father. She's got all the boys drooling over her. (A few of the girls, too.) Good thing she's got Alfie to watch her back... and those fencing lessons you gave her can't hurt either. 

Do you regret any of this? Because I don't. I think of what I would have had with KC -- a white picket fence, two and a half children, a spot as head writer for the show -- and I don't miss it. I thought I might, at first. I worry about everything. It's just who I am. You know it's impossible to get me to relax when I have something stuck in my head. Almost impossible, I should say. 

I think of KC and then I think of you. She's not funny; you are. She's a little repressed; you're anything but. If you ever had any inhibitions, I never found 'em, and I've been looking. It's so easy to tell you grew up in the Twenties. You've got the attitude for it, the panache. I like that. Sometimes I wish I could've known you then. But would things have turned out as great as they have? I don't think they would. 

There are so many what-ifs and could-have-beens, but none of 'em matter next to what really happened. 

You know what I was really thinking when I woke up in your bedroom the next morning? I wasn't worried about Sy, not at first. No, I was wondering if you thought of me as just another one-night-stand. I was twenty-seven years old and in love for the first time in my life. I was also scared shitless. Painting the town red while under the influence, that's one thing. Letting you drag me out of that party, that was my survival instinct kicking in. Going home with you, sleeping curled up with you, that was... something else. Men don't do that, not with other men and hardly ever with women! We're screw-and-leave creatures. That's what I thought you were, 'til I got to know you. 

I still remember the writing on the wall -- er, mirror. "Dear Steinberg, gone to see Tess, love, Duffy." Funny pet name, Steinberg. Eh, we're funny people, you and me. This is a funny love story. 

You came back, every time I thought you were gone. I keep coming back to that, like it's some kind of miracle. Maybe I thought it was, then, because you had this playboy reputation. But you came back. You panicked right before the show -- you cut and ran -- I said screw it all, walked away, and you followed me. That night, I shook your hand, gave you your check from NBC, got into my car, and drove home. I wasn't expecting to see you sitting on my couch when I got back to my apartment. 

You woke me up at seven in the morning. I would have objected, but you can't talk and kiss at the same time. So I did the one that made more sense. 

Damn, look at the time. You and Tess will be down in two hours, looking for your presents, and I haven't even put them all under the tree yet. You'll unwrap everything in the room, except maybe me -- that's for later -- and then you'll read this. 

Merry Christmas, Alan. You're the best gift I ever got. 

Love, 

Benjy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003, if the Wayback Machine's to be trusted. Not sure what pseud I used. Trust me: this is my work. 
> 
> Original disclaimer: I'm not sure who they belong to. All I know is that nobody's mine, not even Tess. Really.


End file.
